The first thing Aralyn noticed on her way to Maple Lane Market was the bustling crowd in the town square. Townsfolk looked unusually happy for a Wednesday afternoon. Children ran freely between the stalls and carts while teenagers lingered nearby, their expressions sour as if their presence had been forced upon them to help.
Patrick was there with the twins, Lucas and Calliope. The three of them were staring intently at a woman who was weaving a crown from dry twigs and leaves. Their small hands moved carefully, lips parted in concentration as they tried to follow her example. Aralyn remembered her face. It was the twins mother.
Aralyn's foot stumbled against something small and hard beneath her shoe. She paused, shifting her foot aside.
A pin.
It looked like a silver leaf. In the center of the leaf was a small circular shape–either a sun or a moon. Aralyn couldn't quite tell.
She shrugged and kept walking.
"Aralyn, dear!"
A familiar voice caught her attention just as she reached Maple.
Mrs. Collin was approaching her with a smile that reached her eyes. "Oh my, you look so pretty today. What brings you out here, my dear?"
Mrs. Collin cupped her cheek for a brief moment before pulling away.
The affectionate gesture sparked something deep within Aralyn's chest–an old memory from childhood. Her mother had touched her like that once, gently wiping her tears after she came home crying from being bullied by people she once believed were her friends.
"Um…" Aralyn cleared her throat, shaking the memory away. "I just need a few things to bake. That's all."
Mrs. Collin beamed.
She gently looped her arm around Aralyn's elbow and guided her into the lively crowd.
"As you can see, dear, everyone is preparing for the festival. I was hoping you could join us," she said, hope softening her voice.
People paused briefly in their work to glance at Aralyn before returning to what they were doing. The attention made her shoulders tense, but the warm presence beside her grounded her somewhat.
"It's okay, Mrs. Collin. I'll be f–"
"Nonsense, Aralyn!" Mrs. Collin interrupted brightly. "Besides, everyone brings their own food for the festival. Speaking of, would you make those cinnamon rolls again? I couldn't stop thinking about them."
Her pleading tone cracked something inside Aralyn.
The resolve she had built over the past three years–the quiet oath to remain distant from the town–suddenly felt fragile.
"I, uh…"
She glanced around, searching for words. But they vanished from her throat the moment her gaze landed on the wrong person.
Or perhaps the right one.
Noah was sawing through a huge log that would soon become a long table. But it wasn't the work that caught her attention. It was the way the sunlight glistened across his bare shoulders. His shirt was nowhere to be seen, and the lean muscles along his back and arms flexed effortlessly each time he pushed the saw forward. Sweat caught the light along his skin, turning each movement into something distracting.
Women had gathered behind him, giggling and whispering.
"Show it, Noah!" one of them called, lifting her phone to take a picture. More laughter followed.
Noah turned around, smiling politely at them. From where Aralyn stood, however, the smile looked slightly forced. It didn't reach his eyes. Perhaps he was simply being polite.
But when his gaze drifted across the square and landed on her–this time, it did. The smile shifted into something warmer. Boyish. Almost mischievous. He wiped his hands with a rag as if he had all the time in the world.
Aralyn blushed furiously and quickly looked back at Mrs. Collin. "Okay," she said. That was all.
Mrs. Collin squealed in delight and pulled her into a warm bear hug. "I knew you would!" she said, pulling back and patting Aralyn's cheek softly. Aralyn briefly closed her eyes, savoring the unexpected affection.
A scoff sounded nearby. "Looks like the girl will finally join us. After three years," Theodore Hayes muttered grumpily.
"Oh hush, Theo," Mrs. Collin waved him off cheerfully. "I'm just so happy Aralyn could join us this time!" Her enthusiasm was so infectious that Aralyn found herself smiling despite herself, a quiet laugh escaping under her breath.
"Aralyn, eh?"
She turned. A sweaty Noah now stood behind her.
Up close, the heat from his work seemed to radiate from him. Damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, giving him the careless look of someone who knew exactly how charming he was.
A dimple appeared on his right cheek as he smiled.
"Oh, Noah! This is Aralyn Odea. She moved here three years ago," Mrs. Collin said warmly. "Aralyn, this is Noah Brooks, Nathaniel's only son. That reminds me, are you going to play your music at the festival?"
Noah smirked, his gaze flickering briefly toward Aralyn, who was trying very hard not to look at his glistening shoulders.
"You know I will," he replied smoothly. "Wouldn't miss it." He punctuated the words with a wink. Mrs. Collin slapped his arm playfully.
"Charmer. Well then, Aralyn, I should get back to helping them. It's good to see you, dear," she said affectionately before joining Theodore at the lantern table.
Aralyn quickly made her way into Maple, nodding at the cashier who returned the gesture.
"Scarf, wait!" Noah followed close behind.
The cashier gave him a disapproving look the moment she saw him. He wore only his jeans, his torso bare and glistening from sweat. Unbothered, Noah kept walking.
Aralyn headed straight to the baking aisle, already grabbing the boxes she needed.
"What do you want?" she asked coldly. Noah didn't seem to mind the tone. He stayed close beside her.
"Pretty name, Scarf," he teased. "I get it now. Aralyn Odie."
Her jaw clenched instantly. "It's Odea."
"Oh. Whoops. Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck before crossing his arms across his muscled chest. "But I gotta ask you something, Scarf." He tilted his head toward her. "What's up with you and Mrs. Collin back there? I've never seen her that friendly to anyone since... years ago."
His eyes studied her carefully. "You must be special enough for her to take you under her wing just like that."
Aralyn dropped a box of cocoa powder into her basket before turning to him.
"She's just being friendly to an outsider like me. That's all." She walked past him, trying to ignore the heat radiating from his body. It brushed against her arm as she passed, making her focus narrow sharply on the shelves instead.
"Huh," Noah said behind her. He looked unsure for a moment before breaking into a crooked smile. "Well, at least she got you to say yes that easy."
Aralyn didn't respond. The scarf around her neck had loosened slightly without her noticing. The bell above the door jingled loudly as it opened. A wave of voices followed.
"God, this is so refreshing!"
"Vale! Ring me up with two beers!"
Noah glanced toward the entrance. A group of the same women from earlier walked in. When they spotted him, their smiles turned instantly seductive.
He turned back toward Aralyn–and froze. Her scarf had slipped lower around her neck. Beneath the fabric, the mark pulsed faintly with a blue glow.
"Shit," he murmured under his breath. The store was filling quickly. "Heads up, Scarf," he said quietly. He stepped closer. Aralyn startled at the sudden movement and stumbled back, her shoulder bumping against the shelf.
Noah closed the distance before anyone else could notice. Now he was too close. Her breath hitched. His fingers carefully caught the loose coil of her scarf, tightening the fabric around her neck.
"They're glowing," he murmured, his voice low as he held her gaze. "You okay?"
Aralyn blinked several times, forcing herself back into the moment. His scent–warm, musky, and faintly like pine–surrounded her. Strangely, it felt... safe. Almost grounding.
She should have been annoyed. Should have pushed him away. But Noah standing this close, fixing her scarf like it was the most natural thing in the world, kept her frozen in place. Her heart pounded painfully beneath her ribs.
Noah carefully wrapped the scarf tighter, making sure the faint glow would stay hidden. A small part of him lingered in that moment longer than necessary.
Aralyn's eyes were wide–caught somewhere between surprise and fear. He wasn't sure if he was the reason for the second part. Reluctantly, he stepped back, giving her space to breathe again. Subtly, he pointed to his own neck. "Be careful, Scarf," he murmured.
"Noah! Please, have a drink with us! I'm buying!"
One of the women approached, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward them.
"Don't waste your time with her," another one added, eyeing Aralyn's outfit with clear disdain. "She doesn't know how to have fun."
Noah glanced back once, giving her that unguarded smile of his before joining the women.
Aralyn took a slow, deep breath, regaining her composure. She waited until the crowd thinned and the last few customers drifted out of the store, leaving only her and the cashier.
The gothic cashier gave her a small nod once the door finally closed behind the last customer. That simple gesture somehow eased the tension in Aralyn's chest.
Aralyn lifted her basket onto the counter.
"Ignore those witches," the cashier said.
Aralyn finally looked at her properly.
Dark eyeliner framed sharp eyes. Dark lipstick. Several small piercings decorated her ears, and her gothic outfit looked deliberately chosen–black lace sleeves beneath a worn band tee. But Aralyn's body stiffened at the word.
"..What?"
The cashier tilted her head toward the window where the crowd outside continued their festival preparations. "It's been a while since this town had its prince charming running around," she said flatly as she began scanning the items. "Quite refreshing, honestly."
Aralyn allowed a small smile to form.
"So, Vale, is it?"
"Rowan," the cashier replied. "Rowan Vale. Ro is fine."
"I suppose you already know who I am by now."
"Yep." Rowan continued scanning items. "You're the outsider who doesn't know how to appreciate the town's welcoming gestures." She paused briefly, pointing lazily toward the window. "Their words, not mine."
Then she glanced back at Aralyn. "Though it's cool seeing you here. Even if it's only once a week."
A strange surge of warmth–pride, maybe even happiness–ran through Aralyn at that comment. She couldn't stop herself from puffing her chest slightly.
"Let me guess," Rowan said, gesturing toward the growing pile in the brown paper bag. "All this is for the festival."
Aralyn scratched the back of her neck, suddenly feeling oddly exposed. It felt too open. Too vulnerable. Like stepping into the town's life like this might draw the wrong attention. Mrs. Collin's hopeful voice echoed faintly in her mind.
A small shudder ran down her spine.
What if something goes wrong? What if I'm the reason for it?
"K-kind of," she muttered.
"Your total is fourteen ninety-eight," Rowan said, tapping the register. She hesitated for a moment before adding quietly, still not looking directly at Aralyn:
"I don't usually say things like this but... if I were you, I'd stay away from the festival."
Aralyn blinked.
"What? Not a fan of it, I presume?"
Rowan shrugged. For a split second, Aralyn thought she saw something flicker in the woman's eyes–hesitation, maybe. "Just don't go," said Rowan. "Last year, nearly everyone woke up the next day completely exhausted."
"How do you know that?" Aralyn asked. "Did you experience it? The fatigue?"
"No." Rowan shook her head. "I stayed away from their festivals as long as I could."
Aralyn struggled to keep the conversation going. A foolish part of her wanted to linger in the store just a little longer.
"Well, maybe they were just tired," Aralyn said, pointing toward the busy square outside. "Days of preparation and then partying all night? Anyone would be dead tired after that."
Rowan looked out the window at the bustling crowd. Her expression became unreadable. Then she shrugged again. "Whatever. I said my piece already. Take it or leave it."
Aralyn handed her the cash and picked up the brown paper bag. "Thanks, Rowan."
The gothic cashier only gave a short nod before returning to her phone, scrolling mindlessly. A wave of warm afternoon air greeted Aralyn as she stepped out of Maple and began walking down the path toward home.
Then she heard a whistling tune drifting from the square.
"Hey, gorgeous," one of the boys jeered. "Where you off to in such a hurry? Mind giving us a hand here?"
Aralyn quickened her pace.
Goosebumps prickled along her arms.
"We'd love it if you came down here," another voice called out with a sneer, laughter breaking out among them.
Heat crept up the back of her neck. Never in her life had she dealt with something like this. Aralyn kept her head down, focusing on the dusty path ahead of her, trying to block the jeers from her ears as if they were nothing more than distant noise.
Just keep walking. Just keep walking.
But she could feel it. Someone was staring at her. The sensation burned against the back of her shoulders. She fought the urge to turn around. For a moment, she resisted. Then she did.
Noah was watching her. His eyes were hard–stormy, like thunderclouds gathering before a rain. But the instant their gazes met, something shifted.
The tension in his expression softened. He gave her a small nod.
A quiet reassurance to keep walking. And she did. Somehow, her heart felt lighter than before.